I am part of the problem

The other day, I was walking back to my office in the afternoon. There were two ladies walking ahead of me, and at one point they started looking at me over their shoulder.

I am aware that I can look... scary. I’m 6’3, with a big beard, and I mostly wear black. It doesn’t matter that I understand, that I try to be an ally. It doesn’t matter that I identify as not identifying, non-binary. It doesn’t matter that I was wearing a skirt and eyeliner. The only thing that mattered is that they were scared.

I tried to walk faster to pass them, but they saw I was walking faster, so they walked faster.

So I slowed down a lot, and they kept glancing over their shoulders.

They kept glancing.

So many things went through my head. I couldn’t pass them, what else could I do, slowing down had no effect, and I was literally 40m away from my office. I thought I could shout that I am just heading to that office, and point. but that kinda thing is what the rapist would say . Or the killer. Hey, don’t worry, I am harmless. That would just make things worse. And as I was brainstorming, anxiety steadily increasing, they did that thing where they cross the road to see if I am following them.

It broke me

I got to the office, found a space and just cried. I completely understand why they did what they did. It just breaks me that there was a situation where two ladies feared for their lives and were anxious because of me. And this is where the comments start coming in about me not being part of the problem, and it not being my fault. The fact that I had no malicious intent will only help me fall asleep at night, it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the way I look. It doesn’t change that it probably happens once a week and I don’t even notice cause I am so comfortable in my privilege.

That is where the point starts. How much of what I do and says harms, not because of intent, but because of ignorance? Ignorance that will not easily and naturally get educated, because I grew up and continue to live in relative comfort. Hell, I’m fairly certain my scary look means that I don’t face the verbal abuse that other masculine presenting humans do when they wear a skirt and eyeliner. It is easy for me, maybe not easy to make the choices, but very easy to execute them. So I will largely remain ignorant, and continue to do things that harm. Even when I am not the problem...

I am part of the problem.

This is where it continues. I am not always brave. My head doesn’t work well in crowds, I will talk like a champ in single conversation with another, but, put me in a group, and I am awkward as fuck, likely to say the wrong thing, or be completely out of context. So I easily keep quiet. I am the master of getting home and knowing exactly what I should have said. My brand of social anxiety is such a convenient excuse. Sometimes when people say or do things, I will stand up to them, pipe up. However, that is the exception, not the norm. I feel very fortunate to say that I’ve been in extreme situations, and I’ve put my body on the line to protect others that needed it. If only all situations are as clear as that. I’m talking about the idiot at the office, all alpha, that everyone hangs around, making an off-hand joke. I am so proud of myself when I tell them off, and berate myself when I don’t. I berate myself more than I am proud. It is the same when someone says something nasty about someone else, whether to their face, or behind their back.

I am part of the problem.

It continues still. I know that toxic masculinity exists, rape culture, gender discrimination, racism, classism, fascism, misogyny. It is freaking me out how long that list was getting and I barely scratched the surface. Yet I do nothing about any of them on a daily basis. I just go on with my life. A lot of those start because they are embedded in culture, some because it is learned in other ways. Some people are just full of hate. I don’t know how to deal with the latter, but the former, holy crap it makes such a huge difference if you just educate more people, get them to think, to question. My convenient excuse is that I had an appointment to keep, or, I don’t want to start a scene, I don’t know what to say. In the very least I could point out that it is wrong. Ask them to stop. I do that so very few times.

I am part of the problem.

In some ways my journey has been a long road, in others it is just starting. Sometimes, and I hope among hopes that it is one in a million, though I fear it is more like one in a hundred, I am the problem. When I am not the problem, I am still part of it. I can’t promise I will never be part of it again. I can say that I am trying, and that I will change, slowly, but I will change.

The sad thing is how few actual examples I had to use in this post, because you know exactly what I am talking about. Are you part of the problem too?